I lose my wallet a lot. I always get it back, but this is something I didn’t realize about myself until recently. I’ve lost it under a couch cushion in a New Apt. I’ve lost it in a bar in DC. And at 10:17 PM on a Sunday, I had lost it again. I remembered putting it in a plastic bag with a bag of chips and a jar of salsa. I was bringing snacks to The Horn for a Stairwells rehearsal, and didn’t have the hands for it all. The thing is, I also remembered throwing that bag out in The Horn later that day, and I hadn’t seen my wallet since.
This post is the second in a series of many where seniors recall all the things that have changed over the course of our time here at Kenyon.
Found in the Kenyon Archives, dated around 2012. JK it was on my phone.
Look, I know I’ve stretched this feral cat bit as far as you’d think it could go. There are days when even I wake up unsure if I really have it in me anymore to spew unfiltered feline enthusiasm to those who expect it of me. But, as a senior staring graduation in its cold, hard face, I’ve found myself looking back as a way of distracting myself. And oh boy, did I realize something startling: Where in the ever-living hell did the feral cats go?